I got two pieces communication today which prompted this rather arbitary blog post. (As if any blog posts are of significant importance)

The first was a circular from Kate's extra reading program. The second was from a well-meaning associate.

I am aware that I have a fairly uncommon name, one which has more than one spelling. As such I am not particularly precious about the spelling of my name (which is
just as well as it get misspelled often) but what I don't get is when someone
replies to an email I sent (where my name is in my email address, in my
signature and in my greeting) and they STILL misspell my name. "Dear
Tersia, thanks for your email...."

It is a minor annoyance and in the grander scheme of things completely unimportant but it is irksome. However, one good thing is that it has taught me to make a point of carefully noting the spelling of someone's name before I hit 'reply' on email.

For those who care, my name is spelt: Tertia. And it is pronounced: TER-sha. But you can just call me "GORG-jus".

PS re previous blog post, will post an update soon. Have not yet taken action mostly because I have been away on a business trip but also because my inaction is based partly on fear! Not something I am looking forward to addressing.

Background: We live in a security estate. For those who
don't live in South Africa, security estates are walled off / cordoned off
mini-suburbs within suburbs. The estate is usually surrounded by electric
fences and there is only one entrance / exit to the estate which is access
controlled and manned by security guards. Some estates are big with well over
200 houses (like the one my parents live in) and others might have only a
handful of houses. (Ours has 75 houses). There are parks and communal areas
within the estate. There are usually rules about how the houses should look
within the estate (some estates will have a certain 'look' that they want
everyone to adhere to (ours doesn’t), however the rules are mostly about making
sure that the houses and gardens are well-maintained / speed limits on communal
roads, community living etc). It is like a mini safe place, a protected oasis
in an otherwise open (and sometimes scary) place. It costs to live in these
estates and I appreciate how lucky I am to be living here. Living in a security
estate allows my kids to have the type of childhood we had as kids – riding their
bikes outside, roaming in the streets (within the estate), visiting neighbours,
front door open etc. (The reality of living in a place like South Africa is a
discussion for another day)

That was just
setting the scene. Now to the situation
we find ourselves in.

There is a boy
who lives in the estate who is not very well behaved. He is about 8 or 9 years old. Let’s call him John. John does ‘normal’ naughty things like ring
the bell and run away (he is always the instigator) which is a pain but not
important, he sometimes breaks the plants in the park. He comes racing down the road on his scooter
without looking for cars. But he has
done other ‘not so normal’ things. He
once swore at Rose, he told her to f*** off.
WELL, you can imagine how well that went down. Rose does not take kindly to that type of
thing. He has also said rude words to
the other children (I sound like one of my children. “Rude words”. Heh). Inappropriate words for a 9 year old.

I have had to
have a moan at him once or twice for his bad behaviour, but never in an ugly
way. However whenever I talk to him
there is an air of passive defiance. As
if he couldn’t care what I was saying. John
is only 8 or 9 but I don’t have a good feeling about him. I’ve told Kate I do
not want her playing with this boy. I am
afraid I don’t trust him. Which I don’t like saying, because I love all
children, and I especially hate labelling kids. I am always drawn to the ‘problem’
children. I have a soft spot for them, we seem to have a connection. And yet with this child, there is none.

And then this
happened:

One of the
other children in the complex has become quite friendly with us. His little brother
sometimes plays with John. This older
child told us that John told him that he hates everyone in our house and that
one day he is going to kill us all. He
already has a penknife that his father bought him (??) and when he is older he
is going to buy a gun and shoot us.

I know children
talk big talk and that sometimes they say “I am going to kill so and so (so and
so usually being their sibling), but I feel so uncomfortable about this. If it came from a child that behaved within
what we consider normal socially acceptable behaviour, I might write it off but
I am actually genuinely fearful of this child. Of what he might do now or in
the future to my kids or I.

It is a small
estate we live in, we all kind of know each other (although I do not really
know John’s parents besides to wave hello), I don’t want to make things awkward
for us. We want to stay in our estate forever!

What should I
do? Leave it? Have a talk to John? Have a talk to John’s parents (please say no
to this option)? Warn my kids to stay away from John? Do I speak to the parents
of the little brother who John plays with? (His older brother says the little
brother is already influenced by John and he has a young sister too).

I know what my
husband will say, he will say ‘just leave it’ but it is bothering me. If we hadn’t just had the Boston bombing I
might have felt differently, but I am suddenly so conscious of children who
exhibit socially unacceptable behaviour. I am frightened for them and for us.

I posted a question on Facebook this morning that got a lot of responses really quickly, so I thought I would bring the discussion on to my blog. The question I asked was:

"Would you leave your two 8 year olds at home in your guarded security estate behind electric fencing, controlled access alone without adult supervision. Just for 30 mins to do trolley dash at Woollies. They know my number, they can phone if there is an emergency. Pool net on. They know the neighbor. I can probably nip to Woolies for 30 mins, can't I?"

The response was about 70% definite no and a 30% yes. I was surprised at how many adamant nos there were. Over a 100 people posted a response, it makes interesting reading. Not sure whether you can view the responses here -> LINK.

In summary, the major objections to leaving them home alone were about the following:

They could get up to mischief

There could be an emergency like fire or fall etc

I could stuck in traffic / in the shop and take longer than 30 mins, what would they do

I think I have covered the gist of the concerns from those who said no ways.

I have never left my children alone at home, but today I needed to go to the shop to get some food and I thought about it a bit and wondered whether they would be ok by themselves. And so I did it - I left them at home for 30 mins. And they were fine. And also thrilled to have been given the responsibility to be good at home and also that I trusted them enough to behave.

In response to the concerns raised by others:

My children are definitely not super well behaved (at all) but they don't mess around with my strict rules. I don't have many rules (I am quite a softy) but the rules I do have (which are about safety) are absolutely non-negotiable. My faith in them might be misplaced, but I do not think they will get up to that kind of mischief while I am away. It is not in their nature to be sneaky or wait for me to be away. Whatever they do behind my back they do in front of me, knowing that if it isn't dangerous, I am pretty easy.

As for the emergency, obviously that is a concern. My thinking with this is that firstly there are two of them. If one of them needs help, the other one will go get it. I am not sure I would leave only one of them at home. Our neighbours are very close (as in I can hold my neighbours hand while I am on the loo and she is in the kitchen, its delightful), so if heaven forbid something had to happen, they could run next door in 30 seconds. Secondly, Adam carried the wireless phone around with him all the time. We practiced him calling my number. I phoned and checked up on them when I was at Woollies. Plus they can call the security guards on the internal phone system should they need help.

Woollies is exactly 2kms away, so unlikely that I would get stuck in traffic in Sleepy Hollow on a Sunday morning when all the good folk are at church, but of course accidents happen. Marko was due home at 11. This was 10am. Worst case scenario, they would have been home alone for an hour.

Not mentioned as a concern but a VERY big factor is that Max wasn't there - not a chance in hell would I leave Max at home alone with his siblings as (a) he is bloody naughty and (b) they make TERRIBLE baby sitters.

But what I didn't mention in my note, which is a major consideration, is that Rose was in her room. It's her day off so she was sleeping late or doing whatever she was doing, but I knew that the children could run to her room if something happened. I obviously told them this as well. And then just to be sure, I called her and told her what I was going to do.

So perhaps theoretically I didn't leave them home alone as Rose was in her room (which is adjacent to the house, entrance on the outside of the house), but having done it for the first time now and having read all the responses and had a think about it, I think I would do it again, even if Rose wasn't there. Between you and I, if it was Kate and a friend, I wouldn't do it, but Adam is extremely responsible. He is such a people pleaser / rule follower that he would never do anything risky. Kate would probably let the bath water run or swing from the chandeliers, but Adam wouldn't. He was in charge of the wireless phone.

It's hard to know when to let go. How protective to be. It's funny, because I consider myself quite a protective parent with some things, in fact, I thought I was quite a helicopter parent but after reading the responses on the FB post and also a discussion at Whine Club the other night, I realized I am not as helicopter as I thought. Hmmm, interesting. I know I am a terrible molly-coddler, a big softie and a little bit helicopter'ish, but maybe I have elements of free-range after all. Who knew!

So for those who did not participate in the FB discussion, what would you do?

(Funny, you know what my biggest fear is/was? That someone will break into the house and hurt them. I am not scared of them being naughty or too worried about accidents happening at home. Or being stuck in traffic - I could just phone Adam on the home phone. My thing is that I am TERRIFIED of someone breaking in and hurting them / stealing them. But I had that side covered by living in Fort Knox security estate. If that peace of mind wasn't there, I would never have gone. I think that is a particular South African fear that perhaps overseas people don't have as much.)

As parents, we make a lot of effort. (At least, most of us do) Self-sacrifice and effort make up a large part of parenting. We do this lovingly and freely and their happiness is our happiness etc. We all know that parenting is the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Us and our children are little darling angels sent straight from heaven but sometimes they are also ungrateful little shits. Even the nice ones are sometimes.

Adam is one of the nicest children you will find. He is generous and kind and extremely caring. He has such a soft heart and one of the things that upsets him most is if he thinks he has hurt someone else's feelings. He is a total sweetheart and yet even he can be an ungrateful little shit sometimes. Like today.

Adam has been wanting to play soccer for a while. I haven't been keen because we can only do soccer privately (not at school) which means that it happens after hours. Very much after hours for me. But he LOVES soccer and he fancies himself as quite a good player (no lack of self-confidence) so I said he could play soccer this year. So every Monday and Wednesday night from 5:30 - 7pm (what kak timing) I take him to soccer practice. And every Saturday at 8am is a soccer match. Most of them 'away'. In winter. In the freezing cold and rain.

Today was his first soccer match. He was chosen as Team Captain, a role he took very seriously.

Today we got up at 6:45am, on my day off after a bit of a late night, to take him to the soccer match. In his full kit that I bought for him.

We all cheered for him and he did extremely well.

Then we all went out for breakfast.

Then his father took him all the way to the Tygervalley to have his name and number specially printed at the back of his soccer shirts.

Then his father took him to CNA to buy 10 packs of Skylander cards with his pocket money. (SUCH a waste of money. I am sure the cards will shortly join the grave site of all other collector cards including Moshi Monster, Match Attack, BlahBlah Whatever)

Then his father bought him a soccer ball plus a pair of shin guards at the sports shop.

Then he asked and was granted permission to play at his best friend's house.

Then his best friend (and the best friend's little brother) came to play at our house for the rest of the afternoon.

Then I took him and his siblings to visit his granny and play in the park.

Then I drove to the Spur to get chicken nuggets for him and his siblings.

Then I helped him clean up after he took a spill in the sand.

And THEN he moans and performs because I won't let him sleep over in Rose's room?? He has a fat sulk and acts like his life is SO hard.

I don't do all of the things I do in expectation of outpourings of gratitude etc, but there is nothing that grates me more than when my children act like spoilt brats / ungrateful little shits.

I know he is over-tired and not acting rationally (he had a late'ish night last night and a long day today), but it just reminds me that if you are looking for gratitude and acknowledgement of all the hard work you put, don't expect it to get it freely and expansively from your children, or else you are going to be sorely disappointed.

Parenting is hard work! But the alternative is way harder.

(Kind of reluctant to post this in case (a) you judge Adam or (b) you judge me but actually stuff that. Judge away. I've never professed to be the parent parent of the perfect children. I think we're ok though.)

Hello everyone, I've been away. As in really away, not just away from this blog. Posted a few holiday snaps here: LINK. Holiday was AWESOME. I just chilled and read and ate and drank. Was amazing. Hope you had a good holiday too.

On to today's topic. Yesterday I posted this status update on Facebook (FB is the reason I dont blog - it's so much easier just to pop things up on there instead coming all the way here):

And I meant it, I am v fond of my husband (despite my VERY occasional little moan about him) and he really is damn good at DIY. Partly because he was taught by his dad and has the right tools, but mostly because he is extremely hard working, extremely determined and some might say a little stubborn. He will do it until he gets it right / fixes it / builds it or breaks it down. This (determination) is his best and worst quality (stubborn).

However, a lot of that fond feeling diminished last night when I walked into the bathroom and noticed he had used the WRONG towel. We have been married for 13 years, which means I have being training him for THIRTEEN years in the towel system and still he doesn't get it. Talk about being a S L O W learner.

He doesn't seem to be able to grasp the concept that there are different towels for different things. There are my towels and his towels. This is the most important and basic rule and should not be difficult to understand. Then there are different types of towels based on their FUNCTION. Not on their looks. Just because a towel looks the same doesn't mean it is the same. There are hair towels, hand towels, guest towels, kitchen towels (sub-divided into counter towels, floor towels and drying towels), there are night towels and day towels. Beach towels and kids towels. IT'S NOT THAT HARD TO FOLLOW!!

Yesterday I washed most of the towels and made the fatal mistake of not putting them back in the bathroom. (Although there were towels in the cupboard, they just weren't hanging on the towel racks).

Last night as I walked into the bathroom I saw with horror that he had used my day towel to dry himself. OMG!! He used MY towel, my DAY towel to dry himself at NIGHT!!!! Why doesn't he just cut my heart out and stamp all over it.

(And it isn't just last night, the previous night I saw him dry his mouth on my HAIR towel!!!)

I was too upset last night to talk about it but this morning I asked him why he had done this to me, why he had used the WRONG towel and why after 13 years he still could not get the towel system right. He said 'what system? I need a towel, I see a towel close by, I use it. That's my system'.

No respect.

He might be good at DIY but he is useless at towels. The only way for me to cope is to ensure that there is always a towel hanging on his towel rack and to train him that that is the only towel he is ever to use. If the towel rack is empty, do NOT use your initiative and try figure the system out yourself. Call for help. I will hand the correct towel to you.

Men. Can't live with them, can't kill the effers either.

(And this is the reason why I married this man and why I am still married to him, because he is the only man I have ever met who absolutely does not take my arb shit. And I can be just a little bit full of shit. Although he always takes my serious shit seriously. I do love him. A lot)